Chapter Forty-Six – Fault Lines
The rain returned in the early hours, light at first, then steady — a familiar rhythm that always seemed to follow Xinyue's major shifts. She stood by the window, watching droplets trace thin paths down the glass, each line bending and merging like the invisible systems she now controlled.
Below, the city stirred uneasily.
Jun arrived with urgency in his voice and caution in his posture. "They've started internal lockdown protocols. Horizon Gate is isolating entire project sectors. No cross-communication without clearance."
Xinyue turned from the window. "Isolation breeds fear. Fear breeds shortcuts."
He nodded. "Some managers are bypassing official systems just to get answers."
"Good," she said softly. "Unofficial paths are easier to map."
She activated a secondary layer of her network, quietly observing the unauthorized channels forming beneath Horizon Gate's formal structure. Where executives believed control had tightened, she saw only new fractures — unofficial pipelines of whispered messages, private backups, unencrypted exchanges.
By late morning, she left the apartment under a grey sky, coat drawn close, eyes scanning reflections in passing windows. She took routes that curved and doubled back, ensuring she was never followed for long. Years of survival had carved caution into her bones.
At a transit junction, a sudden shove from behind sent her stumbling a step forward. It wasn't violent — but it was intentional.
"Watch where you're going," a man muttered.
She turned slowly, her expression calm, but her eyes cold and sharp. The man avoided her gaze, retreating into the flow of commuters. A test. Not an accident. Someone was measuring her reactions.
She continued on, heart steady, mind already cataloging the encounter. Tests meant awareness. Awareness meant proximity.
That evening, new data came in. A Horizon Gate sub-director had authorized a risky internal transfer to "secure assets." The numbers didn't align. Panic had driven a miscalculation.
Xinyue didn't intervene.
She amplified it.
A minor discrepancy became a visible anomaly. Internal alarms triggered. Meetings were called. Accusations followed.
Not collapse — pressure.
Jun watched the numbers rise on her monitors. "They're turning on each other."
"They always do," Xinyue replied. "Systems don't fail first. People do."
She leaned back, gaze distant. Somewhere deep inside her, the frightened girl who had once hidden in locked rooms stirred — not in fear, but in recognition. The world had taught her where cracks formed under stress. Now she was simply guiding them.
Outside, the rain fell harder.
Fault lines were forming.
And when the ground finally shifted, only those who had mapped the fractures would remain standing.